


Croaking and Other Painful Things

by dottie_wan_kenobi



Series: Batfam Stocking 2019 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Brothers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne is Also Good at Feelings Sometimes, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, POV Damian Wayne, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi
Summary: He’s never seen an adult wounded this badly before. Mother was never injured to this extent. Father hasn’t been either. Pennyworth has had scarcely any injuries at all in the time Damian has known him.He’s not sure how he’s supposed to handle it now, especially when it’s Grayson who’s been brought so low.Standing straighter, he finally speaks, voice as soft as he can make it. “You look pathetic.”Grayson gingerly turns his head, the corners of his mouth curled up. Only he could still be smiling right now. “Thank you so much, kiddo. Really.”-----Written for the Gen Batfam Christmas Stocking 2019, for the prompt "Injury"
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: Batfam Stocking 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581574
Comments: 7
Kudos: 297
Collections: Batfam Christmas Stocking 2019, Dick Grayson Whump





	Croaking and Other Painful Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DawnsEternalLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/gifts).



> Happy holidays DawnsEternalLight!!!  
> Recently you reblogged a Dick&Dami fic I wrote and your comments meant a lot to me, so I thought I'd give you some more feels!! I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> thank you a million times to my friend and beta [whateverrrrwhatever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverrrrwhatever/pseuds/whateverrrrwhatever) for betaing this even tho she doesn't go here <333

Grayson is laying in bed.

It’s not an uncommon sight—his brother does need sleep, no matter what he might think—but it’s different today. He’s stuck in a neck brace, one leg in a cast up to his knee and the other ankle bandaged tightly. Three of the fingers on his right hand are splinted together. His ribs are bruised. Even from the doorway, Damian can see that his eyes are glassy with pain or medication or both. 

Damian can admit to himself that he feels uncomfortable seeing Grayson this way. Grayson is Batman, after all, even if he doesn’t wear the cowl anymore. And Batman? Batman doesn’t get hurt. He’s strong and capable and imposing, and nothing can get through the armor he wears—both literal and figurative. So to see Grayson like this, so beaten down, it makes his stomach twist and tighten. It’s fundamentally wrong.

He’s never seen an adult wounded this badly before. Mother was never injured to this extent. Father hasn’t been either. Pennyworth has had scarcely any injuries at all in the time Damian has known him. 

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to handle it now, especially when it’s  _ Grayson  _ who’s been brought so low. 

Standing straighter, he finally speaks, voice as soft as he can make it. “You look pathetic.”

Grayson gingerly turns his head, the corners of his mouth curled up. Only he could still be smiling right now. “Thank you so much, kiddo. Really.”

Nose scrunching up at the despised term, Damian huffs and tries to ignore how raspy Grayson’s voice sounds. Brown would describe it as being shot to hell. He doesn’t like it. “Don’t call me that.”

Grayson hums, turning back to his television. One of those old sitcoms from the 1990s is on, volume turned almost all the way down. Why? Does he have a headache? Is he tired? Damian decides he’ll speak quieter next time.

“Sorry. Habit.” Grayson shifts a little and grimaces.

“I’m sure Drake wouldn’t mind if you continued to refer to him that way,” Damian says generously. He means it, sort of. Drake does seem to enjoy when Grayson reaches out and shows his affections with silly nicknames. If Damian happens to know that he isn’t particularly fond of ‘kiddo’… well, that doesn’t really matter. He’s just trying to help his brother feel better. Two of them, even.

“You think so?” Grayson laughs. He grimaces immediately after, a low whine of pain slipping out.

Damian edges into the room, fingers stretching open and closed, open and closed. It’s a tell, but it calms him a little, and Grayson is too distracted to notice anyway. Feeling foolish, he asks, “Do you need that heating pad thing?” Those help with aches, don’t they? Damian has never used one, but it’s the only thing he can think to offer.

His older brother shakes his head. “Nah, m’fine. Just don’t make me laugh again, or I might croak.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Damian mutters. He steps closer, enough that Grayson reaches out and grabs a handful of Damian’s hoodie. He’s going to stretch out the fabric, but Damian doesn’t mind.

“I’m bored,” he declares, infusing as much grandeur in his words as he can manage. Which is, unfortunately, a lot. “And you made the mistake of coming in here, so now you have to entertain me. Tell me, Dami, how was school?”

“Boring.”

Grayson makes a ‘go on’ noise, gently shaking him.

Sighing, Damian says, “I could hardly concentrate. I don’t remember much of what was taught.”

“Why not? Did something happen?”

“Yes.”  _ Dumbass _ , Damian mentally adds.

Of course Grayson, that fool, tries to sit up, worry coming over his face. “Are you okay? Don’t have a concussion, do you? I know you hit your head last night, did anyone check—”

Damian pushes him back down, trying to avoid all of the bruising. It’s much more difficult than should ever be the case. “I’m fine, Grayson. It wasn’t anything that happened to me. You might’ve heard, but my brother got severely hurt over the weekend doing something  _ extremely stupid _ .”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Grayson protests. Of course he does. “It saved your life. Nothing that saves your life will ever be stupid, as far as I’m concerned.”

Damian makes an outraged noise. Sweeping his hand to encompass his brother, he demands, “And this is better?”

“I’m an adult. I can take a beating—”

“That is so not the point—!”

“Boys,” Father says from the doorway. He doesn’t sound angry, but Damian stiffens and twists anyway, acutely aware that both Father and Pennyworth told him not to bother Grayson. They won’t understand that he couldn’t help it, that he had to come and check on him, had to see for himself that his older brother was okay. Really and truly. Titus is the only one who does understand, or at least, the only member of the household who might’ve seen him sneaking around in the hall without going to get Father.

For a moment, Father eyes them both. He lingers on how Grayson is still holding onto Damian’s hoodie, and the horrible neck brace. Then he meets their eyes, first Damian’s, then Grayson’s. “Can whatever you’re bickering about wait until Dick can breathe comfortably?”

“Daaaad,” Grayson complains, “I can breathe comfortably. Look.”

“Look at you breathing.”

“Yes.”  _ Duh _ , Grayson doesn’t say, but Damian hears it anyway. Grayson breathes deeply, only to groan, “Oh god, ow ow ow.”

“Sounds comfortable to me.”

Grayson moves, a shrug aborted at the last second, and his face tightens with what must be pain. “Dami said he’d go and get me the heating pad. Which is why he’s in here.”

“And why you’re arguing?” Father asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We are disagreeing because he thinks this is preferable to me getting a little hurt,” Damian tells him. No, Father won’t be happy he’s in here, but he will be on Damian’s side in this. Father hates to see any of them so injured.

“It wasn’t  _ a little _ !”

“Yes, it was!” It wasn’t, and Damian knows that. Killer Croc could’ve killed them both last night, and most certainly would have if Grayson hadn’t intervened. But it’s not like Damian is going to just admit to that.

“ _ No _ , it—” Grayson tries to sit up again and cuts off, hissing out a breath.

Father sighs, and moves into the room. Sitting down beside Grayson, he helps him sit up, rubbing his back. “Damian,” he says, sounding weary and old. Damian doesn’t like it. “Can you go get the heating pad? And ask Alfred to come up here, please?”

“Yes, Father.” He hesitates, unsure of how the men will react to what he wants to do. But then he remembers he can do whatever he wants here, so Damian leans in a presses a quick kiss to Grayson’s head. “Don’t croak,” he demands, an embarrassing flush rising in his cheeks.

Damian ducks out of the room before either of them can react, Titus falling into place behind him as he hurries down the hall, a little lighter. Grayson will be okay. He has to be.


End file.
